


Growing

by primaveracerezos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos/pseuds/primaveracerezos
Summary: Draco Malfoy is always clean-shaven.





	Growing

**Author's Note:**

> Written as my second turn in Drarryland 2019 for the prompt: "After his fortieth birthday, Harry decides to grow a beard. -OR- After his fortieth birthday, Draco decides to grow a beard. Maximum word count 498." I went with Draco because in my head, Harry always has a beard, even at eleven years old.
> 
> Thank you to Ari/yupokaysuremhm for the beta!

When Draco Malfoy was eighteen years old, he spent five weeks willing his facial hair to grow. Finally stripped of expectations as the sole Malfoy heir, Draco decided he would forgo grooming himself and see what happened.

He had no money to spend on the expensive tinctures and salves he would have otherwise used to encourage his budding beard, but ultimately decided it was better off that way. He would do it _au natural_ , as it were. He would use only his wild, teenage masculinity in the endeavor.

Every morning, Draco woke up and checked the mirror. At first, he was trepidatious, unsure of what his facial hair would look like.

After two weeks, he was desperately hopeful, massaging the bald patches on his cheeks, sure that he felt some whiskers just about to bloom.

Once a month had passed, Draco felt some a seed of self-loathing take root in his chest. He could no longer bear to examine the empty follicles on his cheeks for signs of life.

Thirty-six days after his last shave, Draco slashed off the awkward stubble. He wasn’t gentle, and three tiny cuts appeared along his jaw. He told himself the tears in his eyes were from the stinging pain.

For the next twenty-two years, Draco shaved every morning and sometimes in the afternoon, three times on the day he married Harry. He is _always_ clean-shaven.

 

On Draco’s fortieth birthday, Pansy pops through the floo and insists on side-alonging him to a ridiculously upscale French restaurant, where they drink wine and stuff themselves on tarte tatin. 

Pansy takes Draco back to just outside his front door, which he finds odd. He opens the door to find Harry, smiling lovingly, in front of a crowd of thirty-odd of their friends. 

“Surprise,” Harry says. “Happy birthday.”

Draco’s first reaction is to drag his fingertips across the stubble on his chin. “I-- I haven’t shaved.”

“You look wonderful, but it’s okay if you want to nip upstairs.”

Draco, emboldened somewhat by the Sauvignon blanc sloshing around his belly, shakes his head. “Thank you,” he whispers. Draco presses one chaste kiss to his husband’s lips and takes the offered champagne flute from Harry’s hand.

 

When Draco Malfoy is forty years and one day old, he skips his morning shave for the first time in two decades. He steals Harry’s beard oil - he loves the smell of it, all spice and musk - until Harry swats his hand away from the pot.

“Buy your own,” Harry says, and Draco does. 

After three weeks, his favorite pastime has become running his fingers along the now-soft stubble adorning his cheeks. His whiskers catch on Harry’s when they kiss. Lily laughs when Draco rubs his chin on her little cheek. 

For the first time since Draco can remember, he smiles when he sees his reflection.


End file.
